Man, I Hate Moving

I spent so much time in pain when I was drinking that it became a state of mind for me.  I expected it.  I didn't know what to do when the pain wasn't around, so I did my best to generate more of it.  I was quite good at it.  I subjected myself to a lot of pain.

I think that while there is a lot of truth to the idea that we grow by surviving difficulties, I have managed to warp this concept out of all recognizable shape with my demented and twisted mind.  For instance, it is possible to learn something without all of the pain.  It is possible to live easily and not feel guilty about it.  When things go well, when a plan set in motion moves forward, doors opening smoothly, one by one, all in good time, I don't always know what to do.  I start cringing a bit, waiting for The Nasty Surprise.

I've packed my dictionary.  I don't know where it is.

Ulysses S. Grant

Take for Granted:  To consider as true or already settled.

As we get closer to The Big Move, it gets weirder and weirder.  The release of possessions has been relatively easy, including a house that has been my home for 8 years.  A little tearing away, a little tearing apart happens from time to time, but it's still just stuff.  Once it's out of my sight I don't miss it much.  It is odd how an seemingly insignificant thing can provoke an out-sized reaction, though.  A friend took all of our houseplants, for instance, and it was depressing watching some cacti go that I have had for years and years.

One of SuperK's friends said this to us: "I can't believe you're going.  I thought you two would always be here.  I think I took you for granted."

Isn't that the way?  Taking things for granted.  Several years ago I survived one of those winters where I had a bad cold followed by 2 weeks of the flu.  I was weakened enough that I managed to stay healthy for a week or two before I got another cold.  I was sick for about 6 weeks, more or less.  Spring saved me, eventually.  I remember how grateful I was to not be sick.  For a long time I was acutely aware of how good it felt to be well.  That passed, naturally, and I started bitching about something else.

It's pretty amazing to think that I have had an effect on people.  I made a difference.  I wasn't making much of a difference when I was drinking.  That's the hardest part about going.

Super Nice Guy King of the World Horseface

Stress:  The condition that arises when the mind overrides the body's desire to choke the shit out of some asshole who desperately needs it.

I took a phone call from my real estate agent today.  He was calling to check in.  He wanted to see how things were going.  Moving is very, very stressful.  While I realize it's a problem of prosperity, a problem I wouldn't be having if I was still drinking, the simple fact that I'm sober doesn't insulate me from stress and moving your shit to a new city is stressful.  This guy does this for a living and I'm sure he sees this all the time.  I, on the other hand, move infrequently and am always amazed at the uproar.

I've known this guy since high school.  He's a good friend although our paths don't cross all that frequently anymore, which is what happens when you start to get old.  I think I've behaved pretty well as we've navigated this process but the famous Horseface temper has come roaring over the horizon from time to time if I feel threatened, and I've felt threatened on a daily basis.  And because it's a business transaction he gets to see Money Horseface and not just Super Nice Guy King of World Horseface like everybody else who never, ever sees me behave badly.

I appreciated the call.  I talked for 20 minutes without drawing a breath.  It wasn't any different than taking a call from someone in The Program, really.  It was two people talking.  I like to make a lot of phone calls because invariably I catch someone who needs to talk.  They apologize for monopolizing the conversation.

If they only knew.

Large People

Alcoholics are Large People.  We have the ability to help those who walk among us in despair.  Remember what it was like when you were drinking?  I do.  I remember the hopeless state of mind -- day after day of despair.  It was not a pleasant time.  I was not enjoying myself.  Sometimes I think of all the years and opportunities that I wasted and I feel a tinge of regret.  But I try to remember that I had to go through all of that to get where I am today, with a unique ability to help people who don't think they can be helped.  We can do more than doctors and religious leaders and folks with PhDs in all kinds of people helping disciplines.  They can't do what a guy who was homeless can do for someone who has lost all hope.  That's power.

I sobered up in Chicago and I spent a week there when I was about 10 years sober.  I went to some of the meetings I frequented in my early sobriety.  I got to see folks who were Large People; they helped me learn how not to drink on a day by day basis.  I remembered a lot about them but I could see that many of them didn't know who I was.  I was surprised but I didn't take it personally.  I was another new guy who probably wasn't going to stay sober, and they didn't invest their emotions in me like I did with them.

That happens to me sometimes.  Someone I couldn't pick out of a police line-up will tell me about something that I don't remember saying at a meeting I don't remember attending.  I smile, tell them it's good to see them again, too, and pretend like I know what the %$!! is going on, which I don't.  I can't find the water glass that I filled up 2 minutes ago.

I make a difference.  I'm loved.  I'm appreciated.  That's amazing.

The Winds of Change

Perspective:  A proper evaluation with proportional importance given to the component parts.

As the great Winds of Change blow and buffet me I often wonder what the hell I'm doing.  I will never cease to be amazed at how uncomfortable I get when a plan I have sketched out and prepared for over many months starts to come together in a vague approximation of what I had envisioned.  I'm uneasy when Things I Want might happen.  I don't have a great track record of desiring things that are good for me or appropriate or reasonable.  My track record is me shouting:  "More Money!  More Power!!  More Sex!!!" 

I have been feasting on my treasured exchanges over a distance of many thousands of miles from Herr Luber, a man who has lived all over the world for relatively short periods of time.  Although he happens to be an Earth Person I value his advice tremendously when it comes to Great Uprootings.  People who are turned outward look for advice.  There are a lot of smart people out there with great ideas and different perspectives and experience that can help us form our own great ideas.

The great Winds of Change seem to be sweeping me toward a long distance relocation.  It's exciting and it's frightening.  The reasons to stay where I am are melting in the summer sun and the doorways to someplace else are opening wide.  That's what I see through my dirty, old, broken rose-colored glasses.  That's why I'm keeping that phone on fire.  I need to hear from other people.  I need these friends to tell me when I'm drifting off into Never Never Land.

I never seem to know.

Analogy Steve

Analogy:  An explaining of something by comparing it point by point with something else.

I got a note yesterday from a good friend chipping in some good natured thoughts on my incessant house angst.  He came up with the analogy of someone holding on to one of the ropes that keep a helium balloon on the ground.  If something bad happens, Hindenburg-wise, we do have the option of letting go of the rope.  I feel like I've been preparing for months to cut the permanent moorings of one of my own personal Hindenburgs, confident that I can control the beast with my own control rope.

I am now 18,000 feet above the surface of the earth and I passed a couple of F-16s getting to that altitude.  I didn't think things out as well as I had thought I had thinked them out.

There's a good movie called Danny Deckchair.  Danny has a crappy life and he hooks some big balloons to a  . . . well, deckchair . . . and floats away.  He lands somewhere else and starts a new, better life. I like the idea although the premise was pretty implausible.  It required one to suspend one's belief system temporarily.

I also like the analogy of the roller coaster.  It takes a long time to get to the top of that first hill.  You can look around and jam your feet under the seat in front of you and generally prepare for the big drop.  But once you crest the top things start to move fast and there's precious little you can do about it.

Ahhhhhhh!!!!!

Horseface Steve: Pilot

I don't have any official statistics in front of me but I'm guessing the murder rate per real estate transaction expressed as a percentage would be approaching the 100 percent mark.  Or maybe I'm confusing that with the suicide rate.  In any case, so we don't get bogged down with messy details, I'm just saying that doesn't somebody have to die every time a house is bought or sold?

I feel like I'm the pilot of a small plane that's having engine trouble.  It doesn't look like I'm going to be able to make it all the way to the airport.  I can see some fields up ahead that might work, but no tarmac.  I think I'm going to get the thing down with out any loss of life but it might not be a smooth landing.  I'm coming in hot for a meadow full of cows.

Anonymous "friend" at the meeting yesterday: "Are you still complaining about that house?"

Yes.  Yes, I am.